Memories Of A Scythe
by Mental Patient No.302
Summary: It has been a year since the death of his love and Soul is still as broken now as he was that fateful night she died. He reflects on some of the memories he had with her and wishes that things could have been different. Sucky summary and title. Warning: character death.


Hello! Finally managed to get this story off the other computer and here it is! I figured I'd have a break from writting Asura/Maka and see how I'd go with Soul/Maka instead. Enjoy!

Huh? Oh yeah, I own nothing.

Soul stood by her doorway, looking into the empty room with his hands inside his pockets. Everything was bare. The bookshelf was empty and gathering dust, her bed cold and unslept in. He had all of her books and clothes and other assorted crap he usually picked on her about in a few boxes downstairs where he couldn't see them. He had been meaning to get rid of it but he always found excuses not to. His eyes wandered sadly over to the bed, memories of his previous Meister coming back to him. Fuck, he missed her.

He wouldn't even be feeling this if it wasn't for some low life piece of shit with a gun. The fact that he wasn't fast enough to protect her was one of the most painful parts. He fought back tears as the all too familiar hot feeling reappeared at the back of his throat. He looked around the bare room, remembering some of the times he had with her here and desperately wishing that things were different.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Soul! Get out of my room!" Maka yelled. Soul ignored her, searching through her drawers and successfully messing up her neatly folded piles of shirts. She crossed her arms over her chest, retightening her towel further around her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Looking for my jacket," came his calm reply.

"What makes you think I'd have your stupid jacket?" she snapped. He smirked as he pulled up the black and yellow item, lifting it so she could see. She said nothing as a blush began growing on her cheeks. Her hair was still wet from her shower, small droplets of water dripping down her shoulders. It took every ounce of his will power not to watch each drop as they slid down her collarbone and under the white fluffy towel she wore.

He stood in front of her, holding the jacket in his hand and grinning at her. "I'm sorry, what was that?" She frowned at his smugness.

"It was cold last night, alright? Now take your stupid jacket and get out! I have to get dressed." she huffed. He rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. It's not like I'd see anything anyway, tiny-tits."

"Maka Chop!"

"OW!"

XXXXXXXXXXX

Soul subconsciously rubbed his head at the thought of her Maka Chops and made his way towards her bed, lying down on it. He closed his eyes as another memory surfaced, frowning at the impulsive decision which could have gotten her killed. She had been the smartest person of their year yet she could be so stupid sometimes.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Soul sat her down on the bed, kneeling in front of her as he opened the first aid kit. "You're an idiot, Maka." He grabbed the cloth and began to clean up the blood from her arm. There was a gash in it from their last fight with the Kishin egg about one third of an inch deep and there was a decent amount of blood. He was angry at her. She remained silent as he cleaned up her wound.

"What were you thinking?" he asked finally, disinfecting the cut. She winced as the stinging liquid touched her raw skin.

"You would have gotten hurt if I hadn't," she said, not looking at him. His fingers stopped moving for a second. He shook his head.

"Baka. I've already told you it's my job to protect you not the other way around." He went back to her arm, giving it another look over before deciding that that should be enough disinfectant for the time being. They'd go to Stein in the morning and get him to check it out properly. "I've already proven to you I'd be ready to die for you if the situation arrived," he added.

"But I'm not!" she protested, loudly, causing him to raise his eyebrows. She frowned and continued stubbornly, "I'm not ready for you to die, especially for me." He finished wrapping the bandage around her arm before reaching up to pinch her cheeks, satisfied when she gave a small yelp.

"Then be more careful, idiot, and maybe I won't have to. It's not cool making me worry over you so just promise me you won't try and get yourself killed on the next mission." She smiled and hugged him. This surprised him but before he could really respond she was pulling away.

"I promise," she said. He nodded. "Good. I'll go get dinner ready then."

She stood up with him. "No way, I'm cooking. You burnt the curry last time."

XXXXXXXXXXX

He let out a small "heh", remembering that they had ended up burning it again anyways. He opened his eyes and stretched out against the empty mattress, eyes on the ceiling. He had spent so much time in this bed with his Meister, even before they started going out, and he knew all the little patterns and cracks above. He tried to remember what the bed was like when she was still here, how warm it had felt. It was cold now, serving an equally cold reminder of how she was never going to come back. Her scent was still here though, always smelling like new books and milk and honey shampoo. He felt a small smile at this next memory. Damn witch, although he never regretted what happened, it was her fault. It was because of her they ended up in the position they were in.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Damn it, this isn't cool!"

She stumbled with a yelp, almost dragging him with her as they made their way back to his bike. "Watch it, idiot!" he snapped, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other leaning against the building wall to support them both. She muttered an apology and steadied herself.

"Alright," she said, determination showing on her tired face. "We'll move at the same time. Middle legs first, ok?"

He nodded, still scowling. "Whatever, just try to keep up with me."

They had been sent on a mission to get rid of a witch that had been terrorizing a town a couple hours out of Death City. After the mission was over and the fighting had stopped, Soul had changed and went forward to claim the witch's soul but only ended up tripping both him and Maka. The witch, as it turned out, had been gifted in binding spells and had cast one on them just before they sliced her in half. So now they had to figure out a way home with her right foot stuck to his left.

They took a step forward with their bound feet, slowly. He had to take smaller steps because of her height. He was a good head taller than his Meister and he didn't want to trip her up again, knowing it would send them both to the ground and in an even worse state than they already were. He glanced down at the said girl and smirked at her determined pout and narrowed eyes as she tried to keep their legs in sync. They moved slowly and carefully until they got to the bike, the same problem occurring to the both of them.

They looked at the bike for a moment, contemplating what to do. She finally spoke. "What if I sat backwards behind you?" she suggested. He shook his head.

"Nah, I don't want you to fall off."

"I won't hurt myself if I do," she replied. He resisted the urge to smack her across the back of the head, knowing she would retaliate with whatever hard covered book she was carrying with her, most probably a dictionary.

"Geez, and they say you're the smart one. I'll come off with you if you fall, Baka." She pouted further.

"Well what do you suggest we do?" she asked, irritated by the fact that he was right. He told her to hold still as he swung one leg over the bike and reached out to take her hand.

"Sit in front of me and hold onto my waist. It'll be safer," he explained, starting up the engine. A deep rumble began to produce from the machine. She looked at him sceptically and he rolled his eyes. "Just do it, tiny tits," he said, impatiently. He wanted to go and eat, the witch's soul was good but it could only satisfy him so much before his stomach began to growl for real food.

She sort of hoped closer before taking his hands and sliding ungracefully in front of him. "You ready?" he asked. She nodded and he revved the engine. "Try to keep your feet up," he said loudly to be heard over the roar. They then took off, doing over 120kph down the highway back to Death City. There was no one else on the road that night, just them. Her strong but thin arms were wrapped tightly around his waist as he drove, her head leaning against his shoulder. The simple act sent an uncharacteristic shiver down his spine and he felt his cheeks begin to heat up. Her hips almost ground into his as she pressed herself against him to keep warm as the wind whipped past her and her bare thigh rubbed against the top of his jeans as her skirt rode up. He tried to ignore this fact, trying to think about anything that wasn't sexual. It would have been totally uncool to be getting a boner on his bike with his roommate in his lap.

_She's your Meister, she's your Meister, she's your Meister._ He continued to repeat this mantra in his head and almost believed it was working before the sweet smell of milk and honey invaded his senses and he thought he was going to pass out. He tried desperately to ignore it but couldn't stop the smell of her shampoo from working its magic on him. He was sure it was that stuff in the gold and white bottle he had seen in the shower earlier on that day. Did she always use that? He had never thought about it before. A sudden image of him burying his head into her hair as she softly moaned his name and clutched his shoulders tightly unwillingly appeared and he had to mentally beat himself before anything happened because of it.

Half an hour of riding later Maka had fallen asleep and Soul was feeling proud of himself for his level of self restraint. However, said level was fading quickly as he began to notice more and more things about his Meister as she practically sat in his lap. He noticed how her body seemed to fit into his and the way her breath tickled his neck as she breathed. He also noticed the small trickles of blood that threatened to drip when her skirt rode higher and higher, barely giving him a preview of her white cotton undies. He noticed a lot of things but one that really threw him (both metaphorically and literally as the action nearly caused them to be thrown from the bike after nearly going off the road) was when she mumbled his name as she slept. Goodbye self restraint. After that one word he found himself leaning forward and kissing her forehead softly, breathing in the intoxicating sent before pulling himself back in one last chance to regain self control. "You're going to kill me one day, Maka," he whispered, glad that she was asleep when he said this.

He woke her up when they reached Death City and they both struggled to make their way up to the apartment, stumbling up the stairs and leaning against the door in relief once they made it inside the small but comfortable home. They ate the left over Chinese food on the couch, Soul stretched back with his arms over the back when he was finished and Maka leaning forward slightly to set down her plate. Soul yawned and looked at her. "So, my bed or yours?" he asked.

She looked at him blankly. "What?"

He rolled his eyes and tugged his leg, reminding her quickly. She nodded and said her room. They awkwardly got changed for bed and climbed in; facing each other again after deciding it was the best position. "G'night, Maka."

"Soul."

"Hmm?"

His eyes widened in surprise as he felt the pressure of her lips as they pressed against his. The kiss was brief and short but it left him feeling like he was flying. Or falling, he really didn't know or care. She buried her face into his chest when she pulled back so he couldn't see her face.

"Payback for the kiss earlier on," she whispered.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Soul was brought out of his memory and looked up as rain began to pound on her window.

She used to love the rain.

After a split second decision, he grabbed his hoodie and keys, shoving them in his pocket and left their apartment. He pulled the hood up above his head and shoved his hands inside his pockets as he walked. There was no one else out.

He continued to walk, not thinking about anything besides Maka. There were other days like this, where he would do nothing but think about her and blame himself for not being able to help her when she needed him most. His friends suggested getting help but he had blown their offer away immediately. A few of them had told him to move on, that there was nothing else he could do about it. He was still angry at that. Maka had been his partner and best friend for the last six years, how the hell was he supposed to move on from something like that! He was told that it would get easier but to him it only seemed to get worse. He noticed how everything would somehow remind him of her, of her smile, her laugh, her aggressive behavior towards him with books.

He wanted her back. His feet moved for him, pulling him in a direction he didn't want to go but knowing he had no choice. He watched the rain create ripples upon the puddles in the path. It was like the sky itself was crying, reflecting his emotions exactly.

His head looked up as he came to a gate. It was rusty as he pushed on it, opening it with a loud creak. The cemetery wasn't his favourite place to be. In fact he hated coming here but he couldn't seem to help himself. He came here every Thursday night, the same night she went to the hospital. The night came back in detailed flashes and he remembered the blood, her eyes, how cold she was, how scared she sounded.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"We need help!" Soul yelled as he ran into the emergency room, carrying his limp Meister in his arms. Blood smeared along her side, staining the white material of her Spartoi uniform. Her emerald eyes were closed as her head fell against his chest. "Stay with me, Maka!" he urged.

A nurse rushed to his side to examine her, gesturing for a bed to be wheeled over. "What's happened?" she demanded.

"She was shot," he replied, quickly, his eyes never leaving his pale Meister for a second. He laid her on the bed as she was surrounded by men and woman wearing the same white clothes. Soul held her hand as the nurse stood up, calling to someone else over her shoulder. "What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"She's going to have to go into surgery. She's lost a lot of blood." He continued to hold her hand as they rolled her towards the operating room. "Maka? Maka, look at me! Listen to me, ok? You're gonna be ok. We're at the hospital. They're going to help you, just stay with me." Her eyes opened a fraction, her own emerald orbs coming into contact with his crimson. They looked dull. "Soul…"

"I'm right here, Maka. Just stay with me," he begged. The nurse called to say they were ready to bring her in as she squeezed his hand.

"This wasn't your fault, Soul..." she murmured, weakly.

The nurse forced him to let go of her hand as they came to the end of the hall. He watched as she was taken away from him and disappeared from his sight into the grayish blue doors of the operating room. Her eyes followed his until the doors swung closed. That was the last time he saw her.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Soul bit back his tears, the hot coil in the back of his throat tightening and making it harder to breath. After they finished the nurse had come out and given him the news. The pain was still as fresh today as it was that fateful night almost a year ago. He remembered how uncool he had acted after that, throwing and breaking things and almost putting his fist through the wall. He almost got himself arrested for it. Looking back, however, there was no other way he could have reacted to the news. Maka.

He stopped in front of a small tombstone hidden among the many rows of grey stones and pulled the hood away from his head. He scowled. She deserved better than this. He sat down in front of it, crossing his legs and reading the inscription.

_In loving memory of Maka Albarn_

_Beloved daughter and friend_

_'Always in our thoughts,  
Forever in our hearts'_

Soul scoffed. Such a boring plaque. It made her sound like a stranger rather than the smart, bubbly girl he had known and loved. She was more than a beloved friend and daughter. She was Maka. She was the youngest Meister in history to create a Death Scythe, she was a leader, someone people looked up to when they were lost and needed help. She didn't cringe at his music the first time he played for her, didn't run away when he told her it was who he was. No, instead she had simply smiled and held out her hand. He had never met anyone like her and he loved her for it.

Maka was his best friend and the coolest partner in the world. She kept him sane when he was on the edge of insanity. She was everything to him and there were so many things he wanted desperately to tell her but would now never get the chance to say. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled paper flower. It had been the only thing left on her desk when he cleared it out and he didn't want to get rid of it for some stupid unknown reason. He placed it in front of the boring plaque and sighed. "I know it's not the coolest thing I can give you but what does it matter now, right?" he asked her.

There were moments he thought he could feel her beside him when he came here. It was like she was still here in a way. It was a small comfort in the hell he was now living without her. He clenched his fists inside of his pockets as the rain continued to splatter against the top of his hair and onto the bridge of his nose. He cursed and hastily rubbed at the tears that were running down his face. Cool men didn't cry like this, he scowled. He looked longingly at the engraved letters forming her name. "I love you, Maka," he confessed.

They had been together for the last 6 months before she had gotten hurt but neither of them were able to say those three little words, afraid of pushing each other away. It seemed so stupid now that he thought about it. He had always loved her, long before they even began going out and this was the first time he was able to say it out loud. He felt the same comforting feel of her touch his arm and he knew she could hear him. He swallowed. He couldn't do this anymore. Without her, there was no longer any reason for him to stay on this miserable planet. He had thought about this a lot over the last 12 months, considering the weight of his actions. His family wouldn't miss him, Wes maybe, but not his parents. He was already dead to them as far as he was concerned. His friends would understand why he chose to do what he was about to do. Maybe they would hate him for it at first but he honestly didn't care anymore, he was selfish like that. All he wanted now was to see his soul mate again, hear her voice and feel her touch.

He stood. Maybe he was stupid for doing this but love made you do stupid things and he had nothing else to lose. He took his time walking home, his heart lightened as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders for making this decision. He closed his eyes as he slowly bled from the cuts on his wrists, his vision growing dark before something bright and warm was seen. He could hear her as she called out to him, could see her bright emerald eyes as they found his own.

He was warm as he felt her embrace him tightly and her voice was sweet and clear in his ears. "I love you too, Soul," she whispered.

Maka.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Soul Eater Evans was found in his home the next evening. He was smiling when they found him, finally at peace with his Meister.

Wow, talk 'bout depressing. As much as I love fluffy stories I've decided I can't actually write them so you're probably going to have to put up with my depressing stuff for a little bit longer. Hope you enjoyed!

I love reviews by the way =D *hint, hint*


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